


Time, Tide and Terror - A Prelude to Bane of the Doctor

by RodimusDoctor



Series: Bane of the Doctor [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Bane of the Doctor, Gen, Pre-1996 TV Movie, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1236664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodimusDoctor/pseuds/RodimusDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor awakens on a bench on the planet Chamble, and finds himself in imminent danger. He also has a large gap in his memory, and a terrible fear unrelated to his current situation. First he must run for his life. Then, he must uncover the source of this unnatural fear, and what had happened to him prior to his awakening on that bench.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time, Tide and Terror - A Prelude to Bane of the Doctor

The Doctor awoke on a bench on the planet Chamble. His body ached and his throat was raw – had he been screaming? Either that or he’d drunk some boiling water. Or acid.

His hearts clenched in terror, and he rolled off the bench and landed unceremoniously on the metallic surface of a pier, half a kilometer out over the ocean. Behind him was the galaxy-famous Casino Aqua, and his Tardis sat unobtrusively by the main entrance. The bench he’d fallen from began to retract and fold itself into the pier’s surface; he snatched his brolly away before it could be crushed.

The Doctor looked around, trying to spot the source of his sudden fear. There was nothing obvious, yet he was so afraid he could hardly breathe. Why? There was no one threatening about. That was because there was no one about. The pier was empty, save for him, his Tardis and the casino.

What was he even doing here? He had no memory of how he’d ended up on this pier, not even why he’d chosen the bench instead of the safety and comfort of his room in the Tardis. Not that he needed to worry about pickpockets on this empty stretch of...

No, that wasn’t right. Casino Aqua was the most popular casino in the quadrant, if not the galaxy. There should be tooings and froings of all kinds of people, and hawkers and their booths lining each side. The Doctor could hear shouts, cheers, cries and even laughter coming from the casino itself, so they were still in business. That ruled out the possibility that he’d arrived in Chamble’s far future. Besides, what were the chances a structure like this one would have outlived the planet’s population? Far more likely it would be wiped out by a...

The Doctor’s eyes widened. He felt doom in the pit of his stomach. And he realized that for the last minute, he hadn’t heard the sound of waves lapping against the pier’s support structure.

In a flash he was up and looking over the railing. The Grantic Ocean was gone. No, there it was in the distance – this coast had a long shallow stretch before it reached the continental shelf – and it appeared to be swelling...

The Doctor ran. Terror like he’d never known propelled his legs faster than he’d ever run in his current incarnation, his hearts pounding at their very limit. Again with that awful fear, completely out of proportion to his current situation. He was in mortal danger, yes, and if he didn’t get to his Tardis in the next minute he very much doubted he would survive long enough to regenerate. But that was nothing new.

A bit of his memory had come back, however, and he knew what was about to happen. A tsunami over a hundred metres high was about to hit the coast and crush the pier out of existence. It would be rebuilt, and history would repeat itself several times, but the Doctor had no intention of becoming part of that history.

He’d come to Chamble to save people. The city of Lushansy had been evacuated, as had much of the coast, but many gamblers had elected to stay in Casino Aqua until the very last minute. The staff had left, but automated dealers remained. The slot machines required no supervision, and all bets and jackpots grew larger the closer the impending disaster came. There were transmats to allow for an instant escape before the wave’s impact, and theoretically there were enough booths to transport all the patrons to safety.

In practice, the Doctor knew that things would not go so smoothly. Many would ignore the danger for one last bet, one last hand, one last pull on the one-armed bandit. Many would die on their way to the transmats, and some wouldn’t move from their seats at all. And Nyad Inc., the corporation that owned Casino Aqua, would pocket all its winnings: most transactions were done with virtual credit, and the slot machines would be salvageable. The house, so they say, always wins.

And he was too late to save them. He’d intended to disable all the gambling machines well before the wave; the patrons would have had no reason to stay, and Nyad wouldn’t profit from their greed, stupidity, and death. Instead, something had happened to him and he’d ended up on that bench with no time left.

He was close now. There was hope. The swell of the wave was visible above the casino roof, however, and the roar was the only sound in the universe. The Doctor searched his pants and coat pockets for the Tardis key, tossing aside all his other clutter; a yo-yo, a Galactic Glitter, rubber mouse, small motorized Dalek toy, fob watch, several tea bags and numerous Jelly Babies hit the pier behind him. He charged the last ten metres holding his key ahead of him like a spear.

 

The water receded, and as it did so the remains of the pier – a very few jagged support pillars – became visible. There was no sign of Casino Aqua; several weeks later a playing card would be found over a hundred kilometers inland. The city of Lushansy was gone with very little trace; some rubble, a smashed vehicle or two, and a mysterious blue box that lay on its side, tangled in twisted metal that had prevented it from being washed out to sea.

Inside, the Tardis was in disarray. The Doctor hadn’t managed to shut the door before the wave hit; he’d barely stepped inside before he, the Tardis and the casino were hammered, swept up and tossed over and over again. The Tardis had flooded, water battering him along down the endless corridors and wreaking havoc the entire way. Eventually he’d found shelter in one of the backup console rooms, where he’d managed to activate the Tardis’ drainage system and pump the water back out. He’d been lucky; the Tardis lay on its side with the open doors facing the sky. If the doors had faced right or left the flooding would have continued, and the Tardis might very well have become a waterlogged tomb on the bottom of the Grantic Ocean.

The Doctor sat in the corner of the backup console room, his chin on his knees, clutching his brolly in front of him like his life depended on it. He shook, his mind nearly blank, his hearts still racing.

He knew he was safe now. Yes, he’d have to activate the internal gyroscope at some point, in order to stand the Tardis interior upright once more, but otherwise there was no danger. Yet still the fear remained. It had nothing to do with his recent ordeal – that kind of terror he was used to. This fear that would not leave him, it was something else.

Something had happened to him before he’d woken up on that bench. Something he couldn’t remember, but his hearts would never forget.

A light blinked on the console above him. The Tardis had received a signal. He wondered what it was. He couldn’t check, not until his body decided to cooperate once more.

This is ridiculous, the Doctor thought. And completely undignified! I’m a Time Lord, not a squirrel. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Clear the mind, clean the spirit. And bit by bit, the fear began to wane.

The Doctor was halfway to Macrofern when he remembered the signal. He’d been quite busy, trying to get the Tardis back into a workable state. The console room would need to be completely remodeled, hence the trip to Macrofern. When it came to quality Tardis interior decoration, nobody did it better. He’d saved their civilization when one of their interior designers, Debit Ravis, had gone mad and tried to redesign the planet from the inside out. Surely a Tardis refit wasn’t too much to ask? After all, it was well past time for something brand new. For one thing, those silly round things on the walls had to go. Something Jules Verne-like, perhaps...

Once in flight, the Doctor had busied himself taking and examining a sample of his blood. It was just a hunch, but perhaps the unexplainable fear had been caused by something external. Something injected, or inhaled.

Which would, of course, mean enemy action. Because he didn’t just decide to have a nap on the pier. He’d gone to Chamble to save lives, and due to the actions of an as-yet-unknown villain, he had failed.

That would not stand.

The results came back. There were indeed trace amounts of a toxin in his blood, something he couldn’t identify. He therefore could not say for sure if it had caused his fear. But it was foreign.  
Enemy action.

But who? And why? The moment the Tardis was back in full working order, answering those questions would be his top priority.

The light on the console blinked. Ah, yes, the Doctor thought. I’ve got mail. That is what they are saying on Earth these days, isn’t it?

Doctor by order of High Council you must go to  
Skaro High Court to collect remains of the Master  
His last request was for the Doctor to carry his remains  
Back to Gallifrey following his execution for crimes  
Against the Dalek race.

The Doctor blinked. What madness was this? There were so many things wrong with that message. Since when had the Daleks ever had a high court? Or any form of justice system beyond extermination? The planet of Skaro had been destroyed by the Hand of Omega, and the Master was still at large. He’d taken his original Time Lord bodily remains from Traken after he’d possessed the body of Nyssa’s father. And, the Master had used those remains in that botched attempt to clone himself a new body – one uncontaminated by the cat people, and with restored Time Lord regenerative powers – during that Rigid Maze incident. The leftovers of that bit of business were safely sealed away in a strongbox in the Tardis.  
I really ought to go and check the locks on that box again, the Doctor thought. Even the ashes of a savage, animalistic version of the Master were not to be trusted...  
The doctor shook his head and returned his attention to the message. It couldn’t be from the High Council, unless they’d suddenly developed a sense of humour and started pulling pranks. That was about as likely as, well... as the Daleks having a High Court.  
The Tardis made its wheezing sound; he’d arrived on Macroferm. The Doctor donned his hat, picked up his brolly and headed out to find a talented decorator, leaving the Tardis computer to trace the strange message back to its source...

**Author's Note:**

> Continued in Bane of the Doctor


End file.
